


stupid cupid

by possibilityleft



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Backstory, Gen, M/M, Mass Conspiracies, Matchmaking, Paranoia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:39:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/pseuds/possibilityleft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos joined the Meetup.com group for new Night Vale citizens, and finds himself embroiled in conspiracy, angel activity, and a sudden social life.  He really isn't sure what to think about it.  <em>That night, the angels came.  They made an arc around Carlos's couch bed and whispered in his ear, one by one.  Their wings rustled in the dark, cramped space.  "We sent for you," the first whispered.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	stupid cupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rakkorolla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakkorolla/gifts).



The day before he left for Night Vale, Carlos was packing his last few things. He lifted an empty box onto the kitchen counter and surveyed his silverware drawer, wondering how little he could live with taking. Money was already impossibly tight for this trip and he'd been seriously considering living in the lab, which would mean that he'd have access to the autoclave if he needed to sterilize anything, but also that his forks and spoons might make contact with any number of substances that would be very scientifically interesting, but probably not very healthy or delicious.

He decided on two sets -- no, better make that three in case one was co-opted in the name of science. He picked out the ones that looked the cleanest and his sister, who had come over supposedly to pack but mostly to scold him for leaving, sighed and leaned back against the wall, looking bored. Normally she would be sprawled comfortably on a kitchen chair, but they'd been sold already, and the table.

"You're going to be so lonely, brother," she said. "What are you going to do without Mama coming by and giving you the extra tamales? Or me reminding you to sleep? You work too hard, you don't need to live with your job."

She'd already shared these thoughts with Carlos more than once and he decided to ignore them, moving to the cabinet above the sink and considering whether he really needed the pasta strainer.

When he looked up, she was looking back at him expectantly, so he said, "I'll be fine," and turned to grab some newspaper in order to wrap the plates. He meant it, too. Sure, he didn't have a lot of friends, and he hadn't been on a date in some time, but it was difficult to find time for such things. He didn't work too hard, even if his family thought so. The world was just so astonishing, and he had a limited time on the Earth to appreciate it, so he was going to learn everything he could in the time provided. In this case it meant he was going to move to Night Vale, the most scientifically interesting town in the U.S., with a minimal number of possessions and a maximum state of curiosity. This would be an amazing opportunity, and he was very excited to have received the grant.

(At four o'clock on a Sunday morning, the grant information was delivered to the door of his small apartment. Someone had rung the doorbell in a pattern sounding suspiciously like the Morse code for SOS until he'd dragged himself out of bed to answer it. There had been no one on the step, just a paper packet with information. It was as close to government efficiency as Carlos had ever seen. But then again, he didn't remember applying for it, so it could be a paperwork mistake he was happy to take advantage of.)

Elena rolled her eyes but then she pushed herself to her feet brightly.

"I've got a brilliant idea!" she announced, and disappeared into his bedroom without another word. Carlos thought about following her but there really wasn't anything in there that she could hurt -- just his mattress on the floor, his rumpled sheets. She'd probably gone through to the bathroom anyway.

She came back with his laptop and sat it down gently on the kitchen counter, patting it like it had been a good dog. Now Carlos was somewhat concerned.

"I signed you up for Meetup.com!" she said, as though she'd done him a great favor. "There's a group for new Night Vale residents!" For a moment, her face faltered. "The, uh, the picture is a little weird, but there's a bunch of people for you to meet!"

"Thank you," Carlos said, because he knew it would make her happy to think that she was helping. She beamed. He handed her the box.

*

He'd been living in Night Vale for several months before he even thought about the Meetup group again. He'd been even more busy than he'd expected, because he hadn't been expecting to have to run in terror and save the town from destruction quite so often. Also, he'd developed a personal life quite by accident, and so he spent most weekends with Cecil. He was even thinking about getting a real apartment like the rest of his (slightly less dedicated) coworkers had.

On this particular Saturday, however, Cecil had gone to visit his parents, and although of course Cecil wanted to introduce them to Carlos, he wasn't sure that Carlos was prepared quite yet.

"It's a bit tricky getting in and out of the underworld while still breathing," he said to Carlos, quite apologetically. "Your training's been going well but I'd really rather make sure all the planets are in proper alignment before taking you."

Carlos had gone through the stages of belief in Cecil's statements a long time ago, starting back when he had just been a voice on the radio. He concluded, terrifyingly, that Cecil was quite sincere. So he just smiled and promised to catch up when Cecil came back.

But that left him with an open Saturday. He had a few experiments going in the lab, but they were all long-term at the moment and didn't need tending until Monday. His small office/bedroom in the back was tidy, and the last time he'd gone to Starbucks for coffee it had been an alarming shade of yellow, so he wasn't going to while away his afternoon that way.

Finally he opened up his laptop and signed in. The internet in Night Vale, like everything else, was somewhat unpredictable, but Big Rico offered free wifi on the full moon and as Carlos had been there the previous night for his mandated slice, he didn't think it would hurt to hop on the connection for a bit. He checked his email, which was mostly junk, but there was one near the bottom of his inbox that he hesitated over, and then clicked.

 _Today: Join 15 New Citizens at "New Residents Social Hour_ ," the subject line said. It was an email from the Meetup group that Elena had signed up up for, the day before he'd come to Night Vale. He hadn't gone to any of the previous events, usually deleting the emails without even reading them, but it seemed appealing today. It would be nice to talk to some folks from the distant country of Normal.

So Carlos noted down the address, put on his second-best labcoat, and went.

*

The meeting was in the high school gym, which Carlos thought was unusual. Perhaps they were expecting more people than 15. There was a small sign on the door, neatly printed, that said, NO AIRPLANES ALLOWED WHEN PRACTICE IS IN SESSION. Carlos went in anyway.

The gym was mostly empty and smelled like every high school gym Carlos had ever been in -- unwashed socks and Pine-Sol. There was a small group of chairs set up at the opposite side, and he crossed the wide gym floor, taking in his new companions as he did. They were about evenly split between men and women, mostly young with a couple of older folks. He seemed to be the only person who'd made the choice to wear white; there were a lot of folks in heavy eyeliner, dressed in black, and some with quite interesting tattoos. There were a few people whom Carlos had trouble focusing on. Every time he glanced in their direction, he found himself glancing away. Something about their faces are wrong, he thought to himself, immediately wishing he hadn't.

A short woman with a nose ring and a baby wrapped up tightly in one arm waved a greeting to him.

"It's Carlos!" she said to the small circle of chairs, which caused a ripple of excitement to run through them, and Carlos to turn red. He didn't know how to handle being small-town famous, especially because of a radio program. How was it that everyone knew who he was by sight, anyway?

"Uh, hi," Carlos said. The woman jiggled the bundled child up and down absently and offered him a seat.

"Well, I think that's everyone," the woman said cheerily. She cocked her head to one side, sniffing, and then nodded. "Welcome, Carlos and everyone, to our little social hour! It can be difficult to fit into Night Vale when you haven't grown up here and don't know the local custom. The stories I could tell about my run-ins with the secret police!" She laughed, and a few folks nodded with a knowing smile. "Of course, that's how I got my Jennifer, so I can't be too mad. This doesn't need to be formal, so please help yourself to some cookies and punch and make some friends!"

Carlos decided to go for the cookies and punch. Even if they turned out to be inedible, it gave him something to do with his hands. When he turned around with a small plastic cup in his hand, a man with pale eyes started talking to him about his new wife and her poltergeist problem. About three minutes into the conversation Carlos realized that the man didn't seem to have any idea that there was a difference between a scientist and a doctor. He had no idea what to advise when any kind of sexual advances led to winds, floating, and debris being thrown around the room. Eventually he managed to excuse himself, and had a conversation with a woman about recent changes proposed at the last (mandatory) town meeting.

He'd talked to more than half of them when he realized something odd. He'd expected there to be more single people here; after all, he suspected that that had been why his sister had signed him up in the first place. She was always saying he needed to meet someone nice. Well, he had, but so had all of these other people. They dropped their partners' names into conversation casually, several of them wearing rings or the more traditional blood locket.

He was talking with the woman with the baby at the time. Her name was Nina and she'd been living in Night Vale for ten years now, but she ran the Meetup group because she remembered what it had been like when she'd first come to the city.

"All I can say is," she concluded, "you're quite lucky that death is a meritocracy now!" She beamed at him.

Carlos had only heard about half of that story, pondering over his recent discovery. "Is everyone here married?" he asked her, since she seemed to know all the other attendees quite well.

"Oh well," she said, with a slightly awkward smile, looking down suddenly at her bundled baby so that she didn't have to meet Carlos's eyes, "not everyone. Pam divorced John Peters -- you know, the farmer? -- hmm, it must have been five years now. She's the one in gray there. But you know how it goes with Night Vale, dearie. No pressure, of course."

"How does it go?" Carlos asked, and when she didn't respond immediately, "Nina, how does it go? It could be important."

Nina cooed at the baby, who didn't coo back. Or move, or make any sounds at all. Heavy sleeper, Carlos supposed.

"Well, we all came here for someone," she said, looking up at him, half smiling and seeming a bit embarrassed. "It's a tradition in Night Vale. Our children leave the community for a few years after high school and explore the outside world. Those who choose to come back usually return with a mate. And the lovers who survive, and/or choose to stay, almost always have their marriage license approved by the City Council with a minimum of further sacrifice." She smiled dreamily. "I can see it like it was yesterday -- standing there with Rob in line, hands around one knife..."

Carlos noticed, suddenly, that her little finger was missing on her right hand. He made an effort not to shudder.

"You," she said, snapping out of her nostalgia, "are a different case entirely, of course. We couldn't give up Cecil after he'd survived five years as an intern, and another three as a host. It's a station record, you know. You should ask to see his trophy. And he's such a nice young man, we had to do something for him... Everyone pitched in."

Carlos thought about the envelope on his doorstep. He thought about the doorbell ringing. S.O.S.... S.O.S....

"I have to go," he said to Nina abruptly, and he left without another word.

Behind him, something wailed.

*

Carlos didn't remember the drive home, and hoped that he'd managed to follow the inexplicable and ever-changing speed limit semaphores. He sat down on the battered couch in his office and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He dialed Cecil's number but didn't push send.

He wondered if Cecil knew. Cecil tended to preface his more absurd statements with phrases like, "As we all know" and "Of course." If he knew, he probably would assume that Carlos knew as well, much like Nina had.

If Cecil didn't know, Carlos wondered if he should tell him. Would that make things awkward? Probably not for Cecil. Carlos felt more than a little betrayed, like he'd been set up on a blind date by his mother. Only worse, because his mother had only made the mistake of assuming that he was interested in women, and this was something else entirely.

What if Carlos decided to leave? Would he be allowed? Most of the people who leave tended to end up wandering among the sand wastes, from what he had been told.

What if they ever broke up? No relationship was perfect, and Carlos knew that he wasn't the best partner. He had a tendency to get distracted easily, he wasn't very good at expressing his feelings, and he had a hard time picking up signals from the other direction.

Carlos remembered what had happened to Telly, and his mouth was impossibly dry. The man had only cut his hair, after all.

He put the phone down without calling Cecil. He spent the evening going through paperwork, trying to find information on the grant he'd received to come here, any info on the funding. Although he had come with a team, their funding was separate from his. He'd assumed this was because he was meant to be the leader of the group and needed to maintain the lab and manage personnel, but now he knew better. He couldn't find much useful. Everything about the proposed study and its proposed funding organization was very vague. He didn't remember this being the case when he started this adventure. But maybe it had been, and he hadn't known what signs to look for.

Cecil called him around nine p.m. and left Carlos a voicemail that he listened to later while lying in bed in the dark. He'd had a great visit and his parents really wanted to meet Carlos when Carlos was ready to come. Carlos should definitely listen to the evening show tomorrow if they didn't get a chance to talk before then, because he was going to share some of his mom's best homemaking advice.

"Not that you need it, of course!" Cecil's rambling voicemail said. "You keep your lab very tidy! But Mom had some really interesting home remedies that she shared with me and I thought you might want to test them!"

Carlos smiled.

*

The next day Cecil agreed to meet Carlos before his evening show. Cecil was full of vim and vigor, like always, talking Carlos's ear off. Carlos knew he really should be listening, but mostly he was watching Cecil, observing the twitch of his expressive fingers, the gentle curve of his ears, the brightness of his eyes. Cecil really was the handsome one of the two of them, Carlos thought.

"Carlos?" Cecil repeated. Carlos blinked. He thought about saying yes, but that wasn't a good idea. Not without context.

"Sorry, Cecil, what did you ask?"

Cecil laughed. "You just seem really distracted today! What's on your mind?"

"Well," Carlos began. "I wanted to ask you something. Do you..."

He hesitated, unsure how to phrase what he wanted to ask without being too obvious. Cecil rested his head in his hands, waiting patiently.

"Do you know anything about Amalgamated Corp?" he asked finally. This was the name in the fine print on his grant paperwork. Cecil pondered.

"That sounds like a local shell corporation," he remarked, "but it's so hard to keep track of all of them, isn't it? One week they're Vam Co and the next they've merged with Pyre. Bloodsuckers, all of them."

"Literally?"

"Literally," Cecil said darkly. "I can ask on the show, if you'd like. You know I'm always happy to help you with your science."

Carlos shook his head, smiling. "Don't worry about it," he said. He wasn't the best judge of character, but Cecil hadn't even flinched, and he was a terrible liar. Whoever had paid Carlos to be here, Cecil hadn't known about it. And that made him feel a lot better, even if this whole situation was still completely ridiculous.

Cecil started telling him a story and this time Carlos made a point to pay attention.

*

That night, the angels came. They made an arc around Carlos's couch bed and whispered in his ear, one by one. Their wings rustled in the dark, cramped space.

"We sent for you," the first whispered.

"For the perfect person," another told him.

"It took many years," said a third.

"Josie didn't want us to use her printer."

"Even though we were only using the black ink."

"Cecil deserved to be happy."

"So did you."

"Aren't you happy, Carlos?"

Carlos awoke with a start. He flipped on all the lights, but there was no one there, not even a single feather. So it had to have been a dream. Even so, he couldn't get back to sleep until the sun rose, pink and cold in the sky.

*

It came down to this, Carlos thought. Whether or not he liked it, whether or not it was legal, whatever, he'd been _chosen_ , and that meant he'd been watched. For how long? There was no avoiding surveillance in Night Vale itself, where they took the word thoughtcrime very seriously. But he'd been judged back in New Mexico. Perhaps chosen from a group. Who knew? Maybe they'd thrown darts at a map. It was just as likely as anything else.

That being said, they hadn't forced him to date Cecil. He hadn't had that intention right away and had chosen to awkwardly ignore Cecil's crush for some time. But then he had spent time with Cecil, gotten to know him outside the radio station, and he'd liked him. And that had felt natural. So it was more of a matchmaking thing if you discounted the fact that Carlos had been paid to come here.

Carlos wasn't discounting it, because that was also a problem. The town had invested in him. And he was giving back, but not in the way that he had expected when he came here.

The idea made him paranoid. All through the next day, he kept an eye on the folks passing by the lab. During lunch, he ran in the grocery store and saw Old Woman Josie in the cheese aisle with Erika, the one with six wings and long, skinny arms. He left without buying anything, sure that its eyes were on his back.

*

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Cecil asked him over dinner the next night. Carlos started.

"The idea isn't very scientifically sound..." he began. He picked at his salad, watching for anything moving.

"You're right," Cecil said. "You're totally right. I just thought, how amazing is it that you, a big important scientist, found your way to this little town, and then we met? What are the chances, right?"

Carlos stared at him. Then he spoke carefully. "Cecil, did you know that there was a town conspiracy to bring me here so I would date you?"

"Really?" Cecil said, and he did sound surprised, which made Carlos feel better. For about a moment. Then Cecil beamed. "That's soooo sweet! I can't believe everyone was thinking about me like that! I feel so loved! Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because I didn't know," Carlos said, frowning. Cecil bit his lip.

"These sorts of things always work better when both parties are aware," Cecil said, attempting diplomacy. "It's one thing to pull a woman from her bed at night, stuff her into a sack, and deliver her into the arms of her beloved, when she knew it was coming. It's something else entirely when it's a surprise."

"That's a pretty good summary of it, yes," Carlos said. He sighed, rubbing at his temples. "This is a blow to my scientific integrity. And to us."

Cecil's expression shifted to worry. "Are you going to leave?"

Carlos hadn't known what he was going to do until Cecil asked him. He found himself shaking his head.

"I'm going to quit," he said. Cecil paled.

"But what about the scientific community? What about your research?"

Carlos squared his shoulders. "I'm going to find my own funding, and do it right. I can't send all my research on Night Vale _to_ Night Vale. That's not fair or unbiased."

"You're right," Cecil said. "The City Council isn't really fond of all that writing that you do, anyway." He was quiet for a moment. "You're not breaking up with me, are you? Because of the conspiracy. Because I promise you I didn't know. I just liked you right when we met. I love you."

Carlos reached out for Cecil's hand, and squeezed. "They made a good choice," he said. "I love you too."

From somewhere close, there was a quiet smattering of applause.

"You know what would be really unprofessional," Cecil said, deliberately loudly. "Sheriff's secret police following us letting us know that they're actually there? If that happened, I might have to report it."

There was a very careful silence, and Carlos couldn't help but laugh.

*

It took three months for Carlos to find alternate funding, but he finally received the email guaranteeing him several months work. The company, which he carefully researched, had no ties to Night Vale at all. They were hoping that his research into the odd seismic activity there would lead to breakthroughs in earthquake prediction science. It was little more than a pittance; he might have to pick up a part-time job. But it made Carlos happy anyway.

When the next Meetup email arrived in his inbox, he decided to go. It was easier this time.

"Hi, I'm Carlos," he said, to a terrified-looking young woman with a brand new wedding band. "Town conspiracy brought me here. You?"

The story was definitely a good ice-breaker.

After that, he went home to Cecil. There were still a couple of boxes left on the living room floor, mostly books, but the apartment was beginning to feel like home. There were even a few dirty Erlenmeyer flasks next to the sink in the biohazard section that Cecil had carefully marked off with electrical tape.

"Nina's little monster has started toddling around," he told Cecil as they got ready for bed. Monster was the most appropriate word, in his opinion. He hadn't met any other toddlers with green scales lately. Anyway, Cecil just smiled and asked for pictures.

Carlos promised to bring them next time. He climbed into bed and curled his arm around Cecil. Soon they were asleep. And Carlos didn't dream of angels.

In the morning, there was a long, white feather on his pillow. He left it there.


End file.
